


Conscious

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fear, Loss of Control, M/M, Nightmares, Nogitsune Effects, Nogitsune as a seperate Entity, Paranoia, Sleep Paralysis, Stiles is afraid of the dark, fear of the dark, void!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But sometimes your mind can wake up before your body does. So for this split second, you're actually aware that your body is paralyzed. And that's the terrifying part. It turns your dream into a nightmare.
Relationships: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Conscious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheCookieOfDoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/gifts).



> Uh, hi, hello ! Important news, related to covid:  
> Logged out users will see delays in work updates AND logged out users will no longer count towards hit counts for the foreseeable future. This can/will affect fanfic writers, so if you're able to, please create an AO3 account and spread the love via comment(s), bookmarks and kudos. All the love to you all, hope you're taking care

_He’s not afraid of the dark_ , he reminds himself, as he tugs himself in; silently closing the door, turning off of the lights. _Not afraid of the dark_ , he reminds himself, as he wakes up from a nightmare far too real. He doesn’t know where or when that line crossed, reality and nightmares becoming one. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he finds himself unable to move or to— to speak. _Oh no_. No, not that, please not that.

The rational, logical part of his brain knows what’s going on. His body is buzzing, the numbness suffocating and drowning what little is left of his rationality. He can’t breathe and the heartbeat thumping wildly in his chest is the only thing making a sound in the far too quiet room.

Panic and dread turns the blood in his veins cold; even the sound of his own heartbeat can’t calm him, too muffled.

The shadows move, the darkness vivid and stark compared to what it usually is. It eats the light— or what little light is left anyway. His eyes widen in horror as it devours the light shining through underneath his door; and the moonlight shining through his window.

His throat tightens as something appears from the void of darkness, leering at him with far too many eyes.

The bed shifts beneath him and he feels _something_ wrap around his waist. Out of the corner of his eyes he spots what appears to be tendrils, pulsing and vibrant in the vast nothingness. A long, slick tongue suddenly darts out, trailing along the shell of his ear. 

Stiles shivers, his body rigid and motionless. It feels like a tongue, but it’s _wrongwrongwrong_. Whatever it is, it's not human.

It caresses his arm, drapes long, sharp claws along with his veins. ”We want to wear you,” It says and he notices that its limbs are morphing with the darkness, always in flux. Born from nothing; the void. 

It nips at his neck, razor-sharp teeth drawing out blood and white hot pain flashes over him.

His reaction earns himself a laugh; Its laugh is everywhere and nowhere at all, a cacophony of distorted noises merging into one. Wrong, it’s all wrong. He knows it only lasts for minutes, maybe even seconds, but it feels like eternity. And he feels so _alone_ , succumbing to It.

It finally releases its hold on his fragile form, retreating into the darkness It came from. And even though it’s over, it still feels as if he’s being watched.

When he’s able to move he reaches for his desk lamp, the dim glow illuminating his room. It does nothing to calm his nerves and he staggers to the bathroom, limbs sweaty and shaking. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror and instead turns on the shower.

The cold water sprinkles on him and he gulps in deep breaths of air, the tears flowing freely.

He’s afraid, so fucking afraid of falling asleep. It’s getting harder and harder for him to concentrate during the days as well, the shadows always looming. _They can’t hurt him_ , yet a part of him can’t forget what it feels like when It engulfs him.

He feels … Nothing. Nothing at all. Whatever humanity he has, It sucks it out of him and replaces it with void.

There are good nights and bad nights. He endures the bad nights as much as he can muster, reminding himself of the things that make him human. The spark within him flickers, fighting off of the darkness; more often than not it dims the spark. Sometimes it works. _Sometimes._


End file.
